


Crowley Was Dancing

by Katzedecimal



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Belly Dancing, Dancing, Gen, Post-Canon, Reflection, disco dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal
Summary: Dancing was an act of joy and joy was not something a demon found very much of.   Not even a demon like Crowley.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #3 "Dancing"





	Crowley Was Dancing

Crowley was dancing.

He was in garden out back of the cottage when music filtered through the window and distracted Aziraphale from his book. That never bothered him, he knew Crowley liked working to music. And he’d smiled and got up to look out at his beloved demon and Crowley was dancing.

Crowley didn’t often dance. Dancing was an act of joy and joy was not something a demon found very much of. Not even a demon like Crowley.

The last time Aziraphale had seen Crowley dancing was in a club in Soho in the late 1970s. He’d been on his way back from an auction and sensed the demon’s familiar aura. He’d slipped into the club, curious about what deviltry his dear adversary was up to, only to find him dancing.

Not great dancing. Even on the best humans, disco wasn’t a great dancing style and Crowley wasn’t human. But angels couldn’t dance at all. All Aziraphale had ever managed was a gavotte and that after years of steady practice. Anything else and he tripped over his own feet and assaulted his partners as his body refused to obey him. So he’d hung back in the shadows, keeping his own aura hidden, and watched as Crowley danced. 

It transpired the demon had just completed his M25 project and gotten a glowing commendation from the Dark Council that loosened his leash considerably. Not as many crap assignments and much more freedom to move about on his own again. That meant trouble for Aziraphale but nonetheless, he couldn’t help but be pleased. 

And now, Crowley was dancing. 

Not disco, this time. No, this was more like the kind of dancing he’d seen her do in Jerusalem, in the time before that terrible day. Aziraphale had known she was in the city, suspected what she was there to do, and knew he couldn’t interfere. This was a big assignment and it was only right that Hell should put their most accomplished tempter on the job. He’d seen her in the square, a dark crimson scarf tied about her narrow hips over her black abaya, the fringe catching the light as she shimmied and transmitting the serpentine movements of her body. She smiled at the drummer, matching his beats with the pops and locks of her body, until it looked like it was she who was making the beats. Aziraphale had always admired Crowley’s mastery of her corporation. 

And now, Crowley was dancing. 

Armageddon had been and gone and they’d settled into a little cottage on the South Downs with a garden and ample space for books. Crowley had loved it immediately. He was often out working in the garden. He was out there now, in grey linen cargo trousers and a black linen tank top, with a dark red kerchief binding his hair. No sunglasses shielded his eyes and he was dancing. 

Aziraphale watched from the window and his heart swelled with love. Because Crowley was dancing. Because Crowley was happy.


End file.
